


Everybody Knows

by deepsix



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Pining, Truth or Dare, dumb fic cliches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 19:18:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1561178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepsix/pseuds/deepsix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avengers play truth or dare. Then just Steve and Bucky play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everybody Knows

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Everybody Knows](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3281879) by [finesea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/finesea/pseuds/finesea)



> This is a continuation of some not-fic I posted [on tumblr](http://gethporno.tumblr.com/post/84242793051/hahahahahaah-truth-or-dare-stevebucky-im-a-bad) after [wintersoldierfell](http://wintersoldierfell.tumblr.com) asked me to talk about Steve and Bucky playing truth or dare, and [honeysunk](http://honeysunk.tumblr.com) was like, "OKAY BUT WHERE'S THE REST?" The answer is: here. Here is the rest.
> 
> Many thanks to [Sarah](http://monalisasnmadhatters.tumblr.com) and [wintersoldierfell](http://wintersoldierfell.tumblr.com) for beta'ing. Remaining mistakes are, obviously, mine.

The first time they'd done it, Steve'd been awkward and bony, and Bucky's bravado had burned out almost as soon as Steve put his arms around his neck. He'd only been able to go through with it by sheer force of will, swallowing down the rising fear in his throat, ignoring the heat flaring in his stomach. He'd forced himself to look up at Steve, seeming almost tall now from the way he was braced in Bucky's lap, and he'd been about to tell Steve that it was fine, he didn't have to follow through with it if he didn't want to -- when Steve kissed him, smoother and more confident than Bucky could've guessed.

Steve's not awkward now, on the floor in Stark's tower, when he climbs on top of him, bracing his thighs alongside Bucky's, getting his arms around him. He's a lot heavier than last time, and a lot bigger, too, but there's the same lightness in his movements, and Bucky's surprise turns into giddiness at the memory just as soon as Steve kisses him. He can't help the laugh that bubbles out of him, separating their mouths before they can really get started.

"You gonna let me do this or not?" Steve asks, laughing, and Bucky bites at his own lower lip, grinning wildly back at Steve as Steve slides his fingers up the back of Bucky's neck.

"Never back down, huh?" Bucky says. He can't quite remember what to do with his hands -- it'd never seemed like an important part of the memory, when he revisited it, when he could -- but he settles them halfway up Steve's thighs, nothing too forward, and the sort of thing he thinks he might've done. He can't imagine Steve letting him do more -- not back then, and not now in front of all his friends.

"Shut up," Steve says, then nudges Bucky's nose with his own, tipping Bucky's face up so he can kiss him again.

Bucky opens for him easily, letting Steve slide his tongue into his mouth. He's not really sure how far Steve's going to take it -- enough for a show, probably, but not as far as Bucky remembers it, the moment stretched by his own longing, every soft press of Steve's lips, every sweep of his tongue magnified by the hope that Steve just wouldn't stop.

He lets himself get lost in it. Steve's mouth is so soft and so hot and Bucky doesn't care that they have an audience. He doesn't care about anything but kissing Steve, and it goes on and on until he's breathing hard, gasping out sharp pants against Steve's mouth. He feels hot all over, and he should be embarrassed by how turned on he's getting, by how much more he wants, but it all seems inconsequential when Steve sucks at his lower lip, teeth scraping.

It feels like a long time before Steve finally pulls away, and it's longer still before Bucky can bring himself to open his eyes. When he does, he finds that Steve won't meet his eyes, but he can see the downcast sweep of Steve's lashes, unblinking as though staring unfocused. Bucky's almost glad for it, because he's sure his face is showing everything.

"How was that?" Steve asks eventually.

Bucky licks his lips, then moves like he wants Steve to get off him. "Acceptable," is what he settles on, feeling more than a little unbalanced, out of breath.

"Wow," Natasha says afterwards, dripping in sarcasm. "Looks like they had making out in the forties after all."

"Sure did," Bucky says, although it was actually --

"Nineteen thirty-five, even," Steve says easily. He's grinning at her like he won't at Bucky. "But it'd probably only just been invented."

*

Later, when the rest have dragged themselves off to bed, Bucky's left with Steve and a whole lot of mess from the party. He still hasn't moved from the floor in front of the couch, and he lolls his head back against the cushions and closes his eyes. He doesn't feel like getting up, and Steve's going to insist on collecting the empties like the responsible sober person that he is, so there's no point in trying to move just yet. He doesn't remember what it feels like being drunk, but he feels loose and relaxed and it seems like it might be the same kind of thing.

He jerks when Steve settles on the floor next to him, nudging him with an elbow.

"You awake?" Steve asks.

Bucky makes an indistinct noise, but he slits his eyes open and lifts his head to look at Steve. "What's up?" he asks.

"Wanted to see if you were up for round two."

And suddenly Bucky's _very_ awake. "Round two of what?" he asks carefully. His mouth still feels a bit swollen, and Steve can't --

"You know," Steve says, then kicks at Bucky's foot. "Truth or dare. Just us this time."

Bucky huffs out a laugh, because of _course_. "You sure that's a good idea?"

"I dunno. You seemed pretty into it earlier."

Bucky flushes. He knows -- he knows Steve can't mean generally, because he'd refused to answer most questions, because most questions didn't have good answers, and he's always hated dares. He hates looking stupid, and he especially hates looking stupid in front of Steve's friends, and suddenly he feels humiliated for thinking any of this was a good idea.

Steve isn't just talking about the game. Bucky knows that.

"Well, I wasn't," he says shortly, and makes to get up. It doesn't matter that he had been -- it feels too fraught, now, to admit it.

Steve sighs and makes a grab for him. "Buck, come on," he says, because of course he knows Bucky's lying.

Bucky sighs in return. "Fine," he says, settling back.

"Good," says Steve, and pats him on the knee. He's being deliberately patronizing, and Bucky knows it, but he just doesn't have it in him right now to give it back to him.

"So, truth or dare," Steve says.

"Jesus Christ, Rogers."

"Come _on_."

"Fine," says Bucky. "Truth."

"Did you have fun tonight?"

"Jesus _Christ_ ," Bucky repeats, but Steve doesn't relent. Bucky sighs. "Yes, Steve. I had fun."

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Steve grinning.

"Good," he says. "Give me a dare."

"No."

"Because you can't think of one?"

"Because I don't _want_ to dare you," Bucky says. "You always do everything anyway. It's no fun when you never get embarrassed. You're game for _anything_."

"I don't know about _anything_ ," Steve says.

Bucky looks at him. Tonight alone, Steve's done any number of things that a reasonable person would balk at -- and that's not even including crawling into Bucky's lap and kissing him in front of an audience. "I'm not giving you a dare," Bucky says finally.

"Fine," Steve says, but at least he's good-humored about it. "Ask me something."

Bucky thinks about it. "What's the worst secret you never told me?"

"I never kept any bad secrets from you," Steve says.

"What, only good ones?"

"That's two questions," says Steve, and Bucky rolls his eyes. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

Steve nudges him again. "So next one's gotta be a dare."

"I know how this game works," Bucky says. He elbows Steve back -- carefully, because the metal one is pretty hard, but it's enough to get the point across. "Gotta work up to it. And stop touching me."

"Hey," Steve says, "I'm just trying to make sure you're still with me."

"I'm not going to fall asleep on you," says Bucky. "Just ask the damn question."

"Fine," says Steve. " _Did_ you like it? What we did earlier?"

Bucky doesn't answer for a long while. He knew -- he _knew_ Steve was going to go there. They'd never talked about it again, after the first time; they'd never even acknowledged that it'd happened. So it was Bucky's fault, now, bringing it out in the open, and he should've known that Steve wouldn't back down -- not now, and not from this.

What had seemed like a joke at the time really isn't all that funny anymore.

"Or you could forfeit," Steve says, and that's it, isn't it. That's the whole point: to see if he can get Bucky to accept a dare instead. Steve never asks a question because he really wants the answer, but because he wants to see what he can push you to do. He's always been about testing people's limits, but it seems mean now that it's just the two of them. Bucky doesn't know whose benefit it's supposed to be for.

"Steve," he says, annoyed. "I'm really tired of this. Let's just go to bed."

"I know you are," Steve says, and Bucky slants a look at him, thrown by Steve's tone. He's not sure what he was expecting to find, but it wasn't Steve watching him, open and intent and serious.

Bucky looks away instead.

" _Bucky_ ," Steve says, and then he's touching him again, but different this time. He slides his hand over Bucky's open palm where he's got it resting on the floor, and Bucky jerks, because no one ever touches him like that, like his metal hand is just a hand. He lets Steve lace their fingers together, and he tries to keep his breathing steady, trying not to think about the warmth of Steve's skin, the way the flesh of Steve's palm yields against the metal of his own.

"I'm really tired of this too," Steve says softly, and Bucky realizes, suddenly, that all of it -- it's not just him.

"Okay," Bucky says, but still he can't bring himself to close the gap between them the way he wants. Instead, he lets Steve reach up with his other hand to touch his jaw, the hollow below his ear. He lets Steve tilt his face, and he lets Steve kiss him unprompted, soft and careful and not at all like before.

"Okay," Bucky says when it's over. Steve's eyes are very blue and his mouth is very pink, and this isn't a dare -- it's just Steve, and Bucky kisses him.

The kiss is soft but just wet enough to be dirty, and Steve rises to it, opening his mouth, pushing his tongue against Bucky's. There's an edge to it this time, and Steve's hand tightens around his, his other hand trailing down the side of Bucky's neck, and then they're making out, hot and desperate and Bucky wants everything, _everything_.

They rearrange themselves until Bucky's straddling Steve, Steve's hands on his waist, tucked up under the hem of Bucky's shirt. It feels like a dam has burst, now, and Bucky can't stop kissing him, can't stop touching him. He puts his hands in Steve's hair, on his neck, on the curve of his shoulders. He touches Steve's chest and the line of his ribs and he kisses him with a kind of abandon he hasn't felt in years, open and wanting and shaking with it, the slick heat of Steve's mouth intoxicating.

He doesn't realize he's been making noise until Steve pulls away and they're panting against each other's mouths, harsh in the silence around them. Steve's watching him, eyes glazed, and then he kisses Bucky's jaw, the pulse point at his throat, and Steve's mouth is so hot when he trails it down the side of Bucky's neck.

"Bucky," he says, lips soft and distracting when they move against Bucky's skin. Steve slides his hands down to Bucky's thighs, and Bucky feels his cock twitch. He's already so hard, and Steve's hands are so close, so close to where he wants them to be, and he lets out a shuddering breath.

"Please," Bucky says, and Steve kisses his neck, open-mouthed and blunt over Bucky's hammering pulse. He hooks the fingers of one hand inside the waistband of Bucky's jeans, at the placket, and they feel cool against Bucky's overheated skin.

Bucky feels his stomach bottom out in anticipation.

"Please," he says again, shakier. Steve has his hand in his pants, but he's not _doing_ anything, and Bucky doesn't know what to do. He drags a hand up the back of Steve's neck, sweat-slick, his fingers curling in Steve's hair, and he wants to haul him back in, wants to tilt his hips into Steve's, wants to be touched so badly -- but he can't find the words to ask. It seems like too much, and too dangerous, even though he knows it has to be obvious.

Steve shakes his head, then, and slides his mouth back up Bucky's neck, warm and damp until his lips are at Bucky's ear. "I can't," he says, and, "Buck. Tell me what you want." He hesitates, his thumb rubbing along Bucky's thigh, then breathes out slow and shivery when Bucky doesn't answer. He's whispering against the shell of Bucky's ear when he asks, pleading, "Please say it."

Bucky closes his eyes. He feels -- too much, and the past fear of rejection makes it hard to form the words. He knows, now, that Steve wouldn't say no, _won't_ say no, but still he ducks his head, afraid and stupidly self-conscious. It's been too long inside, and his voice shakes when he says, finally, "I want you."

But then Steve stills against him, like it's not the answer he was expecting. But still he opens Bucky's jeans, and still he tugs at Bucky's clothes, Bucky lifting his hips -- and still he closes his fist around Bucky's bare cock, and Bucky moans, desperate relief pouring out of him.

"Fuck," he says, breathless, "Steve."

"Is this what you want?" Steve asks. He bites a path down Bucky's neck, wet and stinging, and Bucky jerks his hips helplessly, fucking into Steve's hand.

"Yes," Bucky says, clinging to him, panting, and everything narrows to the friction on his cock, the sound of their breathing, the hard curve of Steve's shoulder where he buries his face. The heat of Steve's body is phenomenal, and Bucky's leaking and moaning and lost and Steve is so good, so good, and Bucky can't.

He feels undone when he comes, almost sobbing as Steve strokes him through it. He's too hot, his shirt sticking to his back, and it feels like a long time before he comes back to himself, before he can breathe again. He kisses Steve's shoulder because he can't bear to look, and Steve strokes a hand down his back, soothing and familiar.

"Is this what you wanted?" Steve asks, after, like he's not quite sure.

"Yes," Bucky says. And then, feeling brave, he adds, "I love you," even though Steve has to know, and kisses him before he can say anything.

But Steve grins into it, and he bites at Bucky's mouth, and then they have to stop because they're both smiling too hard.

"And yet you came all over my shirt," Steve says, like that's at all an appropriate response.

"Sure did," Bucky says. He looks at Steve, at the curve of his mouth and the color in his face, and he's so happy that it doesn't matter -- it doesn't matter if Steve never says it, if Steve never feels it. He says, "But if you play your cards right, you might get to come somewhere better."

It startles a laugh out of Steve, and he pulls Bucky close, so Bucky can feel his laughter against his chest.

"Damn, Buck," Steve says, like he's impressed. But then he sobers, and his lips brush against Bucky's ear. And what he says next feels like a secret for just the two of them.


End file.
